Page 70 of Heartbreaker
We’ve never—never—gotten involved in one another’s professional lives. We have always been able to separate and maintain that boundary. Why was this any different? After my character turned on him four years ago, we both agreed that whatever happens on the mat stays on the mat. Storylines are nothing more than that, and if we got placed into a love angle, it was just part of the job. I’ve never been jealous or worried about him working with the other girls, because I trust him, but I still don’t know if I can say the same for John…I still can’t figure out why he is so worried about me working with Drake. He’s the furthest thing from my type, not to mention his self-absorbed, holier-than-thou tendencies were enough to turn me off as soon as I met him.
The squeal of metal hinges echoes through the empty gym. I’ve been the only person in the local gym for two hours now. After tossing and turning most of the night, I got out of bed two hours early so I could have some alone time and try to work through my annoyance, which had only seemed to grow since we got to Orlando last night. Whoever else decides to show up before the rush that will arrive around seven can have the other half of the gym, far away from me.
Tonight is Wreck the Halls, a Christmas-themed premiere event before we leave for a two-week European tour. Tomorrow is the last day of my current EWE contract, and I still haven’t signed the document in my inbox. I’m supposed to have it to Noah by eight o’clock tonight, but every time I look at it, I can’t bring myself to sign the dotted line. Since Thanksgiving, everything has felt off. Now with this storyline fiasco…How can I be sure this is the right thing to do?
My heart leaps out of my chest when I turn away from the weight rack and straight into a person standing less than a foot behind me. Ripping my headphones out of my ears, I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Where do you want to start?” Drake laughs, his tongue poking to play with the silver hoop that hugs his bottom lip. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, Sav.”
“What do you want?”
“I hear we won’t have the pleasure of working together after all,” he says, and juts out his bottom lip in a frown. “Is it true that it was Brooks? That he’s the one who put a stop to it, I mean.” I roll my eyes, heading toward the treadmill without an answer, but he follows. “I’ll take that eye roll as a yes. What’s his deal?”
“He doesn’t like you,” I say, about to step up on the machine.
“The feeling is mutual.”
When I turn back around, I almost run straight into his chest from how closely he follows. Taking a step back, I plant my hands on my hips, asking, “What is it with you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you guys seem to really hate each other, but I can’t think of a single reason why.”
“Oh, come on, Savannah. Don’t tell me he has you fooled into thinking he’s some good guy.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” I say, crossing my arms. “But what are you talking about?”
“It’s none of my business what he does or doesn’t tell you—hisgirlfriendof how many years? Four? Wow, you’d think you’d have a ring on your finger by now. That’s a long time without that kind of commitment.”
“Don’t patronize me, Drake.”
I know exactly what he’s doing, and it’s not going to work. Little does he know—or anyone else, for that matter—that John and I have been talking about our next steps. Hell, we’ve even talked about eloping. It would make it a lot easier, but I know he wants to do the whole thing—a church ceremony, dinner, and a party. The whole shebang. Who am I kidding? So do I.
The ring comment isn’t what bothers me most. What does he mean by what John does or doesn’t tell me?
“What are you talking about?” I ask again.
“Did you ever wonderwhyBrooks was interested in you all of a sudden?” What does that mean? John and I have a history that the majority of the world knows nothing about. And when the gossipmongers backstage started questioning how our relationship came to be, especially when everyone believed I was dead set onnotdating a coworker, we simply said things just happened.
It wasn’t a total lie, and we had been working on a storyline together, so it was easy to believe. However, this feels like Drake is insinuating something different.
“Ever wonder what made him decide to ask you out?” The smirk that crosses his face makes me sick. I know better than to feed into this. I should be telling him to take his game of twenty questions and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, but unfortunately, I’m too curious. “Ever wonder—”
“Get to the damn point, Drake.”
“Brooks is not the man you think he is, Savannah. You see, the real reason John Brooks asked you out all those years ago is because I made a bet with him.”
My first instinct is to laugh, but every word he speaks twists my stomach tighter and tighter until I feel like I’m going to throw up. What does he mean by a bet? John was involved in awagerto ask me out on a date. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Surely, he’s joking. He has to be…right?
“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to hide the desperation creeping up in my voice.
“Right after you lost your first title,” he says, propping himself up on the leg machine beside him, settling in for whatever story he’s about to share. “Brooks and Brody came down to the bar, and they were hanging out with some of us guys. I’m not proud of it—boys will be boys, and all that—but we all got to talking about how someone should step in, give you a shoulder to cry on, help make you feel better—”
“You’re disgusting.”
Drake shrugs with a devilish grin. “Yes, I am, but that’s beside the point.”
